With but one instinct
by bladegryphon
Summary: We've been raised to be dead to the world, emotionless, unstoppable. One is the angel of death. His only instinct is to kill, but another is his weak spot...
1. Consumed and Infected

Sap: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! You're supposed to be typing up the next chapter of Adepts in tights! You're supposed to be writing the next chapters of Journal of Sain and Chains of Ice! Why on hell are you writing something else?!  
  
Flash: Sap, lighten up. It's just a one-shot.  
  
Zephyr: ...that's going to turn into a multi-chapter thingie. You know bladegryphon. She thinks one-shots are just peeks into the larger story.  
  
Sap: SEE?! Now she'll just be writing the others even less! Besides, there are already about five billion other Jaffar stories out there!  
  
Balm: Will you three just shut UP?!  
  
Me: Heh heh heh. Yeah, I know I should be working on other stuff right now, but I can't help it if really good ideas pop into my head! Anyway, this is only the first part of who-knows-how-many, so enjoy!  
  
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Kill...  
  
For as long as I can remember, that has been my only instinct, superior even to survival. I remember nothing of my past, at least, before Nergal came. I've been raised to be dead to the world, emotionless, unstoppable. The perfect killer.  
  
I was the only survivor of my village, a lone infant on a bloodstained pile of bodies. Taken by Nergal, he was the one who decided my fate. Even from that early age, I was beaten for showing any emotion. The slightest whimper or giggle meant countless lashings. I quickly learned to accept things as they were, and remained silent, dead to my surroundings. Even when my training involved watching innocents being beaten within an inch of death.  
  
A few years after I was found, I was given my first set of knives and was sent into a room full of children. My orders were to kill every last one of them. I protested, and was beaten until I blacked out, likely even beyond that point. My back is crisscrossed with white scars from that. I awoke too sore to move, bandages wrapped around my torso, and several of the wounds infected. In that state, my knives were again placed in my hands, and the same orders issued. Despite the pain, I didn't dare disobey that time. Only when blood coated the walls was I released.  
  
I remember looking into a mirror shortly after that. My eyes, once warm, were now the coldest I had ever seen, even more so than Nergal's. Before, I would have screamed. Now, I simply accepted it and returned to my room to try to recover quickly, knowing that I would receive no medical attention.  
  
My training continued after that, and the list of things I got lashed for lengthened. Walking too slowly or loudly, using the main hallway instead of climbing the outer walls and roof... it went on and on. By the time I was ten, even the most experienced forces under Nergal's command couldn't tell when I was coming. Not even the thief Legault, or as many called him, Hurricane.  
  
Only three could, but he never let them battle, despite their magical prowess. With black hair, red lips, and golden eyes, anyone could tell they weren't human. They were Limstella, Ephidel, and Sonia, Nergal's magical constructions. Morphs. I heard from others that there was a fourth, but he was considered a failed one. Those were the most powerful of them. Obviously, there were many others of their kind under his command, but none of them were nearly as powerful.  
  
One in particular stood out: Sonia. Even with the distinctive features, she still thought she was human. She was the cruelest of the three, especially concerning her daughter. I'd never seen her, but I'd heard Sonia yelling about her numerous times.  
  
Nergal's men never gave me quite enough to eat, claiming that I would get fat and useless. I wasn't a brilliant thief, but I was good enough to steal food from the kitchens when I needed to, and get away with it most of the time. It was on one of these runs that I met her for the first time. A young child, half my age with green hair, was begging the cook to give her some of the leftovers. Being one of Nergal's men, he refused to and turned her out.  
  
It was the first time in years I'd felt anything.  
  
Yes, I'd killed numerous children her age, but all of them were nothing more than lifeless husks, selves long locked away in their minds to avoid pain from torture. Seeing a poor child like that just sparked something within me. Not much, but it was enough.  
  
I stole a bit more food than usual that night.  
  
She was in the courtyard, sitting on the fountain's edge crying. I walked over to where she was and simply placed half a loaf of bread on the rim beside her. Then I left. I could feel her eyes gazing after me in confusion as I disappeared into the shadows that night. Later, as I was walking along the roof, I gazed down into the courtyard I'd found her in. To my surprise she was still there, but... she looked a bit different this time. A smile graced her face instead of tear streaks.  
  
She almost reminded me of myself, just different. We were both in harsh environments, but she had more freedom than I. And she was far happier than I could ever be, simply because of that one difference.  
  
Perhaps I shouldn't have met her. The day after I'd stolen extra, I was discovered. It was partially because the cook noticed food missing for once, and partially because I had a hard time focusing on my training the day after. I was beaten like I hadn't been in years.  
  
Again I woke on my pallet with bloodstained bandages wrapping my upper torso, yet this time, I wasn't so lucky. I burned with infection, delirious from the fever it brought. I knew that I would have no healer, but I knew that if I didn't get some kind of medical attention, I would die.  
  
But I was too weak to move.  
  
Days and months blurred together in a single, pain-filled haze. My memories did as well. I could no longer remember anything other than my training. Faces flitted in and out of my mind, and I couldn't name any save Nergal. I somehow managed to survive the fever, and was forced back into training the moment it broke.  
  
The harshness redoubled, and I started running obstacle courses with actual people on them, quite unlike the mindless husks from years ago. Time blurred again, but I was too focused on my tasks to care. Missions came and went, and those who resisted me fell and soaked the ground with red. At thirteen, I was already unstoppable. None knew when I would come, and none who saw me survived long enough to tell others. Even my comrades were afraid, gifting me with the name "Angel of Death". Anything I had been before that point was forgotten, drowned by fear. Anything I known before was lost, replaced by that one instinct burned into my memory since Nergal had found me.  
  
To show no mercy to dissenters of his rule.  
  
To kill all in my path.  
  
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Balm: *sniff* Poor Jaffar! bladegryphon, when you write angst, you really go all the way!  
  
Flash: Like? Dislike? Think a few things could be improved? Say so in a review!  
  
Sap: Remember, more reviews=faster updates if bladegryphon isn't too lazy to write!  
  
Me: -___-* Sap, shut up. Remember, all flames will be snatched by Sap for world domination plans, and we reeeeeeeeeeeeeally don't want that. 


	2. By the Flickering Flame

Odd. Asterisks are being deleted, so now the following will be true: --action--  
  
Legault: Writing during school now, are we?  
  
--WHACK--  
  
Legault: Hey, I never said I didn't approve! Class is boring!  
  
You BETTER not be lying.  
  
Legault: I'm not, I'm not. Anyway, let's take a look at the reviews we have.  
  
The Story Master 125: smiles  
darkstarred: No, he's not. In that particular scene, Jaffar was 10, and Nino was 5. That's why I used the "half my age" comparison there.  
Kevin C: You know me, I love angsty, dramatic stuff! And thanks for doing that to Sap, he deserved it.  
AmbieChan: Yeah, I love dark characters too. You really think I did Jaffar a great justice? enormous grin  
Millennium Slinky: Beautifully creepy? Too pretty for words?! is ecstatic  
Bethany: Hey, thanks!  
elven-girl10: Glad you think so.  
Itzel: Meep! hides to avoid beating I'll write the end! It'll just take me a while to reach it!  
gentleness28: Don't worry, it's not a one-shot!  
  
Well, this hasn't been updated since February... Sorry about that! I just had no inspiration!  
  
Heath: And trying to write during a half hour of free time during English and Geometry gives inspiration, as does writing at home while listening to music from a SNES game?  
  
Exactly.  
  
Heath: --rolls eyes-- And so does sitting next to hyper friends, I presume.  
  
--WHACK-- Shaddup, Heath.  
  
Jaffar: ... Just get on with the damn story.  
  
All: --salute-- Yes ma'am!  
  
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Kill.  
  
That's the instinct that I've always been taught. Well, more accurately, it's the instinct they've attempted to teach me. Uncle Legault says that I'm forever innocent.  
  
I am from one of the most powerful magic families in Lycia, the sole survivor. Nergal and his morphs came, murdering them all when I was very young. I was only spared because Nergal himself thought I might be useful in later times.  
  
I always thought Sonia was my mother, but I knew she hated me, never showing an ounce of affection. She always shoved me to the side in a way, disappointed with my abilities, or lack thereof. Limstella was teaching me magic, but gave up quickly due to my inability to read. It never once crossed their minds to try to teach me how.  
  
We had a bit of contact with the black fang, so we'd see them every once in a while, their numbers having swelled slightly each time. The leader's wife had died recently, and Sonia jumped at the opportunity. She immediately began her seduction of Brendan Reed. With her gone, I was left on my own for those periods of time.  
  
Having been dubbed as "nearly hopeless", I was never quite given enough to eat. If I could read, and had learned exactly what they told me instead of questioning the cruelty, perhaps I would have had more. But it matters not, as the past is the past. We were staying at one of the many hideouts that night, an old, abandoned castle. I was told it was empty due to repeated bandit attacks forcing previous owners to pack up and leave, but Uncle Jan later told me the truth. Nergal had driven them out with his dark magic.  
  
I went to the kitchens, intent on begging a bit of food from whichever black fang or minor morph was there at the time. Were I lucky, it would have been a black fang member. They were more lenient back then.  
  
Unfortunately for me, it was Denning.  
  
He was intended to be powerful, but something had gone ever so slightly wrong during his creation. While a good sniper who would follow every command to the letter, he had absolutely no free will of his own. And he had been ordered to keep everyone out of the kitchens.  
  
I was five at the time, so I didn't really know when to give up. I begged and protested until he became fed up that he wasn't following the orders he'd been given, so he literally picked me up and threw me out onto the kitchen steps. I could hear him locking the door behind me.  
  
Soon after, the moon was revealed in a gap between the enormous dark clouds. It was a three-quarter moon, as I had my "mother" say; between half and completely full. Kind of like my stomach at the time.  
  
I made my way to the courtyards. Sitting on the edge of my favorite fountain, tears began to slip down my cheeks. With the exception of two especially kind Black Fang members that I'd met once or twice, it seemed as though I wasn't worth anything. Lost in my crying, I also lost track of time until a sweet aroma hit my nose; fairly fresh bread.  
  
Shocked, I looked up. There was a boy, maybe ten years old retreating into the shadows, dark cape billowing around his knees as the wind played with hair the color of dried blood. I shivered slightly at the image, but was grateful nonetheless. I wolfed down the bread, and stayed by the fountain for a while, watching the moon cross the sky.  
  
The next morning, I remember looking all over for the boy, trying to find him so I could thank him, and just maybe make a friend. I didn't find him then, but I did bump into a kind brigand from the Black Fang named Jan. He was the one who became my first friend, and spent time with me whenever Brendan and Nergal's forces were in the same area.  
  
When I next found that boy I'd been looking for, the one with tanned skin and hair the color of dried blood, it was a week after that night when he'd shown kindness. He lay on a thin pallet stuffed with straw, blood staining his clothes and the floor. I looked on in shock, not believing what I saw. Uncle Jan was playing hide and seek with me at the time, and while I was supposed to hide, I simply stood at the door. He found me like this, and gently shooed me away.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, I returned later that night, and saw that he'd bandaged the boy's torso, where the wounds seemed to be worst. His hair was damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. He shook with uneven breaths, clearly in pain. Though only five, I knew something was very wrong, so I slept in a corner of the room that night.  
  
Limstella discovered me there at dawn the next day. She hauled me out and locked me in my room for two days. Thankfully, uncle Jan snuck me food from time to time.  
  
Uncle Legault picked the lock, which is why I was only stuck in there for two days. It had a magic seal on it, though, so two lightning bolts arched out towards his face, creating the two scars that now cross his left eye.  
  
After that, Sonia assumed that I had managed to break out of there myself, and allowed me to tag along with her to various places. I watched her cast spells against other people, those who discovered our many lairs. After hearing the casting chants so many times, I learned them by heart. In only three years, I knew how to cast fire, but had never done so myself. I snuck into the spell book library later that night, intent on trying it myself.  
  
Not being able to read, I walked up and down the rows with my lantern until I saw a book resembling that which I had seen Sonia use. I slipped outside using one of the secret exits I had discovered while playing hide and seek. Finding a large clearing with only a dead maple tree in the center, I held the book under my arm and began chanting. I crossed my arm over my body and whipped it out to point at the tree as I had seen "mother" do so many times. I had only expected a small fire to be lit on one of the branches, and go out quickly.  
  
What I never anticipated was my power.  
  
The tree erupted in flames, which soon spread to the grass below and leapt to other nearby branches. I wanted to run, but my legs were frozen as I watched the flames dance, in awe of what I had done. Even when I was surrounded by the fire, I didn't feel the heat, nor did I feel the pain as tendrils of flame licked at my legs.  
  
A shout behind me broke the peace, and I dropped the book as I ran, yet still didn't feel any pain. I crashed into Limstella, who was casting Fimbulvetr to quench the flames. She simply looked at me, expressionless, and then took me back to the hideout in silence. I think she believed it was Sonia who had created that blaze in an attempt to kill me, as I heard the two of them talking in hushed tones outside my door while I was attempting to sleep.  
  
This is how my life began, as a mere tagalong, deemed useless.  
  
I would later become one of the most powerful magic users in Elibe.  
  
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Big Bertha Bessie: Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. (Not bad! That music Kate sent you really helped you write this)  
  
Yes, it REALLY helped.  
  
Jaffar: ...  
  
Legault: I don't even WANT to know why your newest muse is a huge cow.  
  
BBB: --sits on Legault-- /  
  
Heath: Review! It makes blade happy, and encourages new chapters faster! 


	3. Rain and Wind

BBB: Moooo! (hello again)  
  
Heath: Yet another chapter written during school... why am I not surprised?  
  
Legault: ... I thought that was MY line!  
  
BBB: -=rolls eyes=- Moooooooooooo. (review response time)  
  
Kitty Merow: -=holds up waffle iron=- Don't worry, writer's block will be in pain for quite some time. Oh, and Inali loses 50 gold. )  
elven-girl10: Yay! Thanks!  
Ivanfanatic: (x2) Creepy = good, that it does! -=throws a BBB at Ian=- Hmmm... -=resisting temptation to put something about Limmy and her cauldron in later=-  
gentleness28: Eh, don't worry about the POV switch thing. I've done that before too.  
darkstarred: That little explanation thing just popped into my head while I was writing, but I'm glad you liked it!  
Bethany: Aww, thanks!  
  
Legault: You know, it gets rather annoying when you write your stories by hand, and have to type them up later.  
  
It's also annoying when you complain about stuff like that. -=holds up a waffle iron threateningly=-  
  
Legault: ... I'll be quiet now.  
  
-=puts waffle iron away=- Good boy.  
  
Legault: /  
  


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Kill.  
  
A funny term, that one, and yet not so amusing at the same time. As a member of the Black Fang rather than Nergal's forces, it wasn't my first priority. Instead, I was the theif, the snoop, the spy... whatever you'd like to call it.  
  
Blah, blah, enough about that. I wasn't much before I joined the Black Fang, before I met Lloyd, Linus, Brendan and Jan. No need to learn about my earlier years. It's what happened later that actually matters.  
  
Shortly after the Black Fang was formed, we met Nergal for the first time. Naturally, he tried to teach me that instinct that HE holds as highest priority. Also naturally, I ignored him. That will come into play a bit later.  
  
Back to the Black Fang. In those times, Lloyd and Linus were both young, and thus easily swayable. Thankfully, Brendan was able to keep them away from Nergal and the morphs most of the time, training them himself.  
  
I helped Brendan keep the boys away, and as a result, my second instinct developed. I would sometimes run an insanely difficult obstacle course to keep Nergal distracted, and to prevent his eyes from lighting upon Brendan's sons. My body memorized the patterns of the course, dodging various dangers effortlessly and mechanically. Soon, I received a name due to my speed and ability to learn things quickly.  
  
Hurricane. If that's what you want to call this thief-turned- assassin, then so be it.  
  
Black Fang and Nergal's forces wouldn't always be in contact; less than a month of each year. Only once has it dragged out for longer than that, and it was due to torrential rains. Still, whenever the two forces WERE in contact, it would be a rather strained time.  
  
Once or twice while running the courses, I'd see a boy with reddish- brown hair, tanned skin and an emotionless expression. Hell, he would run the same course once I was done. Better than I could, even.  
  
They say that time flies when you're having fun. Time also behaves oddly when you're afraid; it speeds up further, or slows to a snail's pace. Either way, years passed, and I quickly lost track of time. It wasn't until much later, as I caught a glimpse of myself in a lake as I passed by, that I realized just how MUCH time had passed.  
  
Later that week, Brendan announced that we were going to meet with Nergal again. The Fang's numbers had swelled, and we were not five, but rather 62. All of us nodded, and gathered our things together in preparation for the long trek. None of us ever questioned this mysterious link that the Black Fang maintained with Nergal.  
  
Once again, we departed from our hideout near the Bern-Lycia border, though this time, our journey took us through land that I didn't recognize. Nergal must have driven another remote noble family from their manor and have taken it for himself.  
  
Upon arrival, Nergal did what he usually would; he ushered me into an underground room with an obstacle course set up in it. At times, such attention from Nergal was more than a little frightening. Especially because this time, something was different, and drastically so.  
  
There were live targets.  
  
It seemed as though Nergal wanted us to compete in a killing spree, and that the loser would lose FAR more than just this little game. I was shocked, having never run the course even with the mindless husks the boy used. I ran it for speed and to increase my dodging ability, never to kill. Still, I ran it this time around.  
  
Oddly enough, I managed to hold my own against the boy. Well, no longer a boy, clearly in his earlier teens, though perhaps it was an illusion due to the harshness of his life. I wouldn't know. Anyway, he fell behind, and I actually managed to defeat him. Though sickened, I managed to hold my bile down long enough for a furious Nergal to roughly shove my opponent into another room. I was shocked when Jan informed me that he was only nine at the time.  
  
A year later, (my, I'm recounting this story quickly) I saw that teen again, and shivered. More than just his expression was dead this time around. His eyes were far colder than ice could ever be, and his motions, masked. I couldn't even read his thoughts by judging how he moved, which was something I had become quite skilled at.  
  
This time, Nergal made me fight him.  
  
Clearly, his mind was elsewhere, as I again held up to and defeated him, though by a slighter margin this time around. Nergal was livid, and I took the opportunity to limp away before the Dark magic user could start lashing out every which way with his Ereshkigal book. The boy's knife had slammed into my ankle as we fought, so I wasn't able to escape quite as quickly as I may have liked. It wasn't broken, or even sprained, but it sure hurt like fluxing bloody hell.  
  
I limped over to where Jan was in hopes of getting him to patch me up again. 62 people in the Black Fang, and not a healer in sight. What a disorganized group we were back then, eh?  
  
Anyway, a young green-haired girl was with Jan at the time. She seemed a little... hyper, giver her situation. Even so, Jan seemed happy to have her there. Though not a particularly good fighter, Jan's trustworthy appearance made it possible for him to acquire plenty of information from various people. It helped greatly as we tried to decide who our next target would be, which evil lord we should overthrow next. In my opinion, it should have been Nergal, but there was no chance of that happening at the time. Getting rid of wicked and cruel lords was our mission before Brendan Reed married Sonia, but I'll save that story for later.  
  
Jan agreed to take a look at my ankle, and the young girl watched, chatting with me as she did so. I don't remember our exact conversation, but I do know that she started calling me, "uncle Legault" right about then. I wonder if she remembers that as well.  
  
The next two days were spent with me avoiding Nergal and the morphs at all costs, and occasionally talking to another Black Fang member. I grew worried as those days passed without my catching a glimpse of Nino, as she was usually trotting around at someone's heels, be it Jan or Sonia. Sonia never looked very pleased when that happened.  
  
Hurricane prowled the halls that night.  
  
Morphs patrolled, golden eyes searching every corner in an effort to seek out and destroy all those they found lurking there. I had to draw on all of my experience as a thief, and even then, I only just managed to get through unscathed. "Through" meaning actually finding the room. Rather than imprisoning his victims in one specific place, Nergal would lock them up all over the castle, so it would take forever to find someone.  
  
I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to find the right room. Again new, that castle was the largest yet. When I DID find it, I used one of my old lock picks on the door, but it snapped. Cursing, I got out another and inserted it into the lock.  
  
However much Elimine may have liked me, allowing me to get through those hoards of morphs, even her abilities have limits.  
  
Two bolts of lightning arched out from the enchanted lock, (wish I'd realized that earlier) and two strips of burning pain appeared on either side of my left eye. Cursing vividly, I snapped the pick off and removed the lock. I prayed that the door's hinges weren't rusty as I slowly pushed it open.  
  
I guess my cursing had ANGERED Elimine now. Hoo, boy.  
  
Nino rushed out, shoving the door open as she passed. Old, rusted hinges creaked loudly in protest. Morphs began flooding into the area, and I fled, ducking into another empty room which (bless Elimine) had a window. I dove out with no hesitation, relying on my reflexes to allow me to land safely and uninjured.  
  
A few years passed again, I believe it was three until I next saw them. I was always off doing another cleanup job and the like when the visiting time came around. Yes, I know that I recount things rather quickly, as I mentioned above.  
  
All of us were almost at Nergal's current castle, having been delayed slightly by an enormous storm. We were tired, stumbling as we trekked through the night, and occasionally tripping over the unseen tree root.  
  
Moments later, the roots were all too clear.  
  
An enourmous blaze erupted to our left, and several of the others cried out in fear. The rest of the Black Fang picked up the pace, intent on getting away from the fire before it could spread. I, however, went towards the fire, intent of discovering its source.  
  
While I never found out what caused it, I could have sworn I saw a purple cloth disappearing through the trees on the other side of the flames, and a flash of green hair. I thought it was Nino for a moment, but there's no way that she could have had so much power at such a young age.  
  
Could she?  
  
Ah, well. It's not something that Hurricane, a thief-turned-assassin should worry about.  
  
Nothing at all.  
  


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Legault: Wow... that was rather long.  
  
That better not be a complaint. Hmm, which POV to do the next chapter from...  
  
Jaffar: ... let the reviewers decide.  
  
-=points=- What he said. 


End file.
